


A Preferred Madness

by foucqre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack Taken Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Hogwarts Professors, M/M, Smaug is here, extreme clichés headed your way, mentions of Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foucqre/pseuds/foucqre
Summary: The next morning, there's another package on his desk when he comes to pick up a spare quill. It appeared someone had broken in that night or early this morning just to drop off a package. Again. He should really talk to someone about that, if his office was really that easy to break into.





	A Preferred Madness

**Author's Note:**

> there are exams next week and this is what i chose to do

Being a professor at Hogwarts meant one must get used to strange things popping up every now and then. Still, the unmarked package Draco found on his desk was a bit of a surprise. It looked innocent enough, brown paper tired together with some twine. At first, he thought it was another piece of mail. But then why hadn't it been sent by owl? And why was it in his office and not at the owlery?  It had to be a prank, perhaps from one of the teachers or the more brave (read: stupid) sixth-years. Or maybe- no.

Draco carefully approached the wrapped package. It looked like it might contain something harmless, like a pair of socks or a pack of sweets, but it could be cursed. Merlin knows that since the war, it won't be the first- or last- cursed package Draco's ever received or will recieve if it were.

Just to be safe he cast a quick charm, to make sure there was no immediate danger in opening the package. When it came back negative, the blond professor wasted no time in turning it over in his hands, looking for any clue as to who sent it. There was only a folded piece of parchment, it read: "This reminded me of you." There was no way to tell who it was from the handwriting; it had been- what's that muggle word?- printed by one of the confusing glowing boxes they have.

Since there was no harm in opening it and satisfting his curiosity, Draco shrugged and peeled away the brown wrapping paper. Inside was a grey scarf. He didn't need to run his hands over it, a glance alone could tell him it had a rich texture, but he did it anyway. It also had a decent warming charm woven in that would last a couple of months before it needed be redone. Whoever chose this was obviously a wizard (or witch, maybe) of good taste.

Draco put it on. It felt as comfortable as it looked. Again, marvelous taste. But he couldn't stay too long, he had only dropped by his office to pick up a report Professor Lovegood wanted. Reluctantly, he put the scarf back down on his desk and rifled the parchment on his desk for the report on magical shrubbery. (No matter what Luna says, it's still just leaves and twigs- albeit with slightly-more-difficult-to-pronounce names.)

It wasn't hard to find, and soon he was out of the office to teach the first years how not to accidentally turn their pets into teacups (Transfiguration was always a bit tricky the first time around.) On his way to the classroom, he dropped off the report to a grateful Luna and tried not to think about who the package might (or might not) be from.

-.-

During his break, Draco tried to figure out who sent the scarf. Not many people were lining up to send him a gift after the war. Of course by 'not many', he meant none. His father and mother soon fled the country, convinced that they were better off not mingling with wizards who wished them dead just weeks ago. They couldn't convince Draco to come with them, he had been determined to pursue a magical career here in Britain. The last he'd heard of his parents were a year ago, on Christmas. They sent him a letter by owl to wish him a happy Christmas. They lost touch since then.

So that was his parents off the list. The only other person he could think of giving him gifts was probably Severus, and he was dead, so. Not much of a possibility there. Draco couldn't think of anyone else giving him a gift just because. So he put the incident out of his mind and just enjoyed the scarf. It was a thoughtful gift, September didn't seem to be getting any warmer.

-.-

Of course, it was a fellow professor who decided to comment on it first. They were walking in the same direction when Potter matched his stride.

"New scarf, Malfoy?" Huh. It was strange for Potter of all people to comment on his wardrobe. Unless maybe to tease him about it.

"It was an anonymous gift." The animosity between them had faded enough- after years working in the same place- that they could hold a civil conversation maybe three-fifths of the time. 

"Ha. Secret admirer, then?" Potter seemed like he wanted to smile.

"Didn't say. It could be from Aunt Bella, for all I know," Draco said with a faux casual shrug. It seemed he could be anything but casual around his schoolboy nemesis (read: crush).

This seems to bother Potter. The skin around his eyes tightened just a bit, but otherwise he seemed unruffled. (It was pathetic how Draco noticed even the slightest change in Potter.) 

"Oh, I just remembered I need to- help Nevi- Professor Longbottom," Potter said as he quickened his pace and averted his eyes.

How odd, Draco remembered thinking at the time. But he thought no more of it. There were students to teach, and he only had ten minutes to get to the other side of the castle.

-.-

The next morning, there's another package on his desk when he comes to pick up a spare quill. It appeared someone had broken in that night or early this morning just to drop off a package. Again. He should really talk to someone about that, if his office was really that easy to break into.

It can't just be a coincidence now, can it? It was wrapped similarly to the other package. It even had a matching note, "It reminded me of you." But today it's signed, "a secret admirer." No more doubt there, then. Draco did another precautionary spell, just in case, but it still came up negative for dark curses and hexes.

He picked it up. It was slightly heavier than before. From its shape, Draco would say it was perhaps a misshapen pillow. He opened it to find a scarlet dragon glaring at him. Draco blinked and started laughing. He kept laughing until he had to clutch his desk for support.

The worst (or best, really) part is, he recognized the dragon from that muggle franchise with angry blond people and angrier short people. Its name was probaby Snog, or something. This meant that whoever gave him these gifts was probably muggleborn, or a half-blood maybe. (Draco felt like Sherlock bloody Holmes at this point.)

Whoever it was, they deserved an award; Draco hadn't laughed like that since someone magically turned Snape's hair bubblegum pink. (His money was on Peeves.) The dragon, Smauf (or maybe Snuff), sat on Draco's desk the rest of the week. A few professors, including Potter, came in and raised and eyebrow at the new guardian of Draco's papers. Potter gave a small smile at the sight of the glaring dragon next to Draco's swan feather quills.

Vaguely, he wonders if there's a connection between yesterday's conversation and the new note.

"Anything you need, Potter?" Draco's voice was cool, but he felt like the other professor must be hearing how hard his heart was pounding. If Draco still got like this just for a smile... sweet Salazar he was fucked.

At first it looked like Potter would say something, but he just shook his head and dropped off a scroll of parchment he was holding. "Headmistress McGonagall asked me to drop that off for you," he said. He started to turn away.

"Wait, Potter." He stopped and turned back to Draco. "You would know about the charms and magical defenses in professors' offices, yes?" He had to, he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"I'd say so, why?" Potter looked a bit defensive, like Draco had insulted his knowledge of defense spells. Ha, prat. Still, an attractive prat.

"It's just, I may have had a break-in the other day. And the day before that." He gestured to the dragon. "They just left that. And a scarf. But nothing was taken." Potter was back to smiling. Somebody stop him from doing that before Draco jumped him.

"Ah, nothing serious then. Must be the admirer leaving you gifts." He raised an appreciative eyebrow at Draco. "Still, if it makes you feel better, I'll add another layer of spells." When Draco vaguely waved his hand to go ahead, Potter raised his wand and gave it a few swishes. Show-off. As if he _really_ needed to do the spells nonverbally.

When he finished, he gave a quick wave in Draco's direction and went off to do Potter-y things. Probably to teach third years the importance of the simple disarming spell. Or maybe make friends with the giant squid.

Draco didn't have any classes that day, so he spent the afternoon grading papers and trying not to think about who might have sent the packages.

It was a tiring struggle, and only the fact that these essays would be returned tomorrow gave Draco the strength to go on. An hour later the pile didn't seem to grow smaller, even though he had two snapped quills that said it should be otherwise.

He gave in and took a quick nap. At least, it was supposed to be quick. One moment he was dozing off, and the next he was woken by a rasping sound. (Since sixth year, he had been a light sleeper.) Someone was trying to get in. A quick look at the wall clock said it was past seven, who would come in? Maybe it would be the one who was sending the packages, and the mystery would finally be at rest. Or maybe it was a student trying to sneak in on a dare.

Either way, Draco knew he should keep himself hidden if he wanted to know who would try to enter his office after his working hours. He concealed himself near the cupboard, where he knew he couldn't be seen from the door or his desk.

From his vantage point, Draco saw the intruder approach his desk with their back to him. He drew his wand. Then slowly lowered it. Draco would recognize that messy excuse for hair anywhere. "Potter?"

The figure froze in his tracks and turned to face Draco. Caught, the dark haired professor looked sheepish and tried to use the long sleeves of his robe to hide whatever he had in his hands. "Um, hello. Malfoy."

"So, is wandering around other professors' offices after working hours the norm for you now?" Draco leaned against the cupboard he was hiding behind, crossing his arms and trying to look cool. And not like he just woke up. He felt he was mostly successful.

Potter attempted to look less guilty and more casual. Like lurking around offices really was a habit of his. (Knowing him it probably was.) The act would've worked if not for the way his eyes still shone with guilt beneath his glasses. (Draco had plenty of practice looking into his eyes. See: his entire stay at Hogwarts.)

"I could ask you what you were doing here after dark."

"In my own office."

"You could be plotting."

" ...to grade essays?" Draco raised an eyebrow. This was ridiculous. He saw the other professor's eye scan the desk for a moment, as if to confirm that oh yeah he was grading papers wow.

Ever the self-righteous sod, Potter decided there was nothing for it but to come clean. He stepped closer until they were an arm's length apart. Draco met his stare and tried not to shrink away from the unfliching gaze. His shudder was entirely involuntary and not entirely caused by nervousness at their closeness.

The dark haired professor opened his hand between them. In it was a package nestled snugly in his palm. Draco sucked in a breath. It was wrapped in brown paper... just like the others.

"It. It was you," Draco said. It wasn't a question. Really, he should have seen thisthe coming. "They- you sent them."

Potter didn't say anything, the way he held Draco's stare was answer enough. All in all, Draco couldn't say he's too surprised. All the evidence was adding up now. (Again: Sherlock. Bloody. Holmes.) The shock mostly came from the part where he didn't want to even think it was Potter, in case he was wrong, but of course the prick keeps surprising him. The Fates must be cackling right now.

Draco didn't say anything more- two can play at that game- and neither did the professor in front of him. Eventually, it seemed the silence was too much for Potter.

"Well?" He asked, trying to look calm. It was a gallant effort but the space between them allowed Draco to see his face up close. He seemed tense and just slightly nervous. No, vulnerable.

"Well, I think you can get me dinner first." This was probably not what Potter had been expecting. "It's late and I'm hungry."

They stare at each other a moment more. Inexplicably, the professor in front of Draco starts to laugh. Draco joins in a heartbeat later. It's not a rejection and Potter seems to be savouring the moment. He's smiling like an idiot, Draco thought. Draco doesn't say anything, he's smiling as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a tumblr:  
> silver-parseltongues.tumblr.com


End file.
